S E P I A
by Jane Moss
Summary: CHAPTER 4! CHAPTER 4!! Sara contemplates on what's to be done. G/S
1. Contemplations

DISCLAIMER: Don't own anyone - characters are property of creators.  
  
S E P I A  
  
By Jane Moss  
  
Sara could smell the aromatic scent of coffee before her. Both hands absorbed its slow heat. Closing her eyes, she inhaled its sepia scent. That was the description she thought of. There were only two old photographs in her possession, which held that delicate picturesque colour.  
  
She knew she was taking advantage of his distraction. Her eyes would sometimes covet him for minutes with no end and only retreat sharply if he happened to glance her way. He did that less now. She couldn't say whether this simple fact disappointed or relieved her. Perhaps it was the latter. Choosing to hide the growing discomfort and specks of anger seemed the best course of action. Or perhaps, there lack of.  
  
Yes, perhaps sepia was the best colour for him. She didn't even have a photograph of him. Her memory, though quite sufficient and more dynamic than a flat picture, wasn't always clear enough to her satisfaction.  
  
Now he was handing Nick a case, who in turn looked slightly quizzical, while Grissom explained. She tuned in briefly enough to hear Nick say, "So there's no body?"  
  
"It's a missing person's case, but they think that once a search of the apartment is complete." Grissom went on, but his words could only dissolve into background noise.  
  
Sara did not need to listen further and slowly sipped her cooling coffee. It had plenty of cream, which gave it a soft textured, chocolate taste. Just the right temperature as well. She once again noted the soft greying curls in his hair, his nose, his glasses, his soft shoulders and back, and tried her best to store a sharp image in her mind. How many times has she done that before? Suddenly feeling intrusive, once her eyes reached his pants, she looked away. Sara hoped her slightly obsessive observations went unnoticed, but of course with no guarantee. That's how it worked; something was done, someone would see.  
  
"Sara?"  
  
"Huh?" The sound of her name was an automatic response, even if her mind was elsewhere.  
  
"You get your own body this time"  
  
"Lucky me," she commented with rather more disinterest than she'd intended. Momentarily, she thought he might have suspected her low mood, but just as quickly sensed his cold detachment once more. He held out the case file. Not even a chance of skin contact. Not that she lived for it, but she realised she never really touched his bare skin, except for that one rare chance where she forgot who she was and brushed her hand across his face. Right then, she thought she saw something in his eyes. She still waited for it to return. Accidental contact only happened through clothing.  
  
She opened the file, and skipped the blocks of text. Instead her gaze fell upon his signature at the bottom and Sara noted, once again, how surprisingly fitting his handwriting was to his character. The script was indescribable. Then again she was far from a poet. Running a finger over the indentations left from the pressure of his pen, she briefly wondered if he ever composed his own poetry. What was it about? Did he ever experience true love? The kind he might have only read about in those sentimental, classic poems? His quotes gave him away. What failed true love does to a person, might in fact be a plausible explanation for Grissom, but somehow she doubted he ever truly let his feelings go. She didn't know if that was because she knew him so well or her discomfort at such a suggestion.  
  
Now that Nick and Warrick left the break room, Sara noted only absently that Catherine stayed to talk to him. The words made no sense and she did not feel like listening. They weren't including her, in any case. That felt upsetting - that much she admitted staring deeper into the dark milky waves spiralling in her cup. She stole a look at him and couldn't help imagining how easy it would be to just walk up to him and touch him. Just touch him. On the arm, on the face. Look but don't touch, was the warning. Employer, employee. It was becoming maddening. She wondered what he would look like when the shock set in. How would he look at her if she came up and stood real close? A few brief possible responses came to mind, none of which, she admitted disappointedly, were wholly realistic. She's been living a dream.  
  
Catherine walked out. Just do it. Who would stop you? Sara shrunk back into her shell. Yes, it was uncertainty. She sometimes imagined herself sharing her deepest secrets with this man. He would be so temptingly easy to trust. Grissom seemed so uninterested in her private life, that she could only guess of how much it would bore him. She couldn't initiate anything because for the last few months she felt nothing but his cold shoulder. Sometimes she just wanted to look into his eyes without any professional masquerade, but then he would always turn away. Why would he risk breaking the rules of conduct?  
  
"Sara?" she heard his voice the second time that morning and looked up without reply. "Is there anything you need?" - Only something you won't give me - "Are you thinking of pursuing this case or should I assign it to Catherine instead?"  
  
"I'm finishing my coffee," she answered back, somewhat accusingly without intention.  
  
He looked away, evidently noting it. She waited for his shadow to leave but instead he lingered indecisively. "Sara, are you okay?" Could he sense she was upset? And everyone believed he was immune to sensitivity.  
  
"No. YES," she corrected her subconscious answer quickly. He knew. "I'm fine" It's did nothing to convince him and he seemed caught in another interlude of contemplation. "I'll give the case to Catherine and you can stay and help me with paperwork." No, that was the last thing she needed right now - to be teased. It would only make things worse. Her confidence dissolved at the thought of diving head-first into a complex crime before sorting out her own turbulent emotions. He seemed to sense her indecision and came closer to take the case file.  
  
"No, wait!" she protested before he could take it.  
  
"Sara, you know I don't assign you to paperwork if I can help it. I know how tedious it seems, but that's why I need your help." He could tell she was completely unconvinced, if not annoyed at his attempt. "Look, I'm not doing this to hold you back," he paused, wondering if the next part should leave his lips, "You want to talk?" This got her attention and he knew it. After only a moment of hesitation, she handed him the file and got up to follow him. Curiously, a day at the office seemed much more promising.  
  
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More soon;) Tell me what you think of it so far! I didn't bore anyone to death, did I? Hehe! JM. 


	2. The paperwork

DISCLAIMER: Don't own anyone - characters are property of creators.  
  
S E P I A  
  
By Jane Moss  
  
Sara stared at the heap of files on Grissom's desk. They were both in his office. He began reading.  
  
"This your idea of 'talk'?" She was surprised she felt fractionally better.  
  
"Hmm?" Grissom faked distraction, but she knew better. "Anything bothering you?"  
  
"A couple of things." she answered without much thought. It was the truth.  
  
"Anything you'd like to share?"  
  
"No"  
  
"Alright, Sara," he dropped the file, "I know I'm not good with these things, but despite your initial assumption, I do notice when people around me have something to hide-"  
  
"Yeah, I guess it's easier to dissect bugs rather than people." She bit the inside of her lip and felt the sting in her personal attack.  
  
"Don't try to change the subject," Grissom seemed unaffected.  
  
"Look I don't wanna talk about it, alright?" Was it his cold detachment she was shrinking from?  
  
"Then why did you come?"  
  
She faltered momentarily. "Because you asked me to"  
  
"Because you were curious?"  
  
She stared at him. "Yeah?"  
  
"Well, I was curious also" He looked pleased - at what? Sara let out a breath of annoyance, sinking deeper into the chair. What was it with this man? He wasn't capable of anything but confusion. He sent confusing signals. He said confusing things. How could she ever think this would work out? She noted that there was silence as she stared at the plain ceiling of his office. Normally, she liked to be inside these walls.  
  
"I wish you hadn't sent me that plant," she came out of the blue and confirmed his slight surprise when she glanced his way.  
  
"I didn't think it would work so well," he came out with his own confession.  
  
"How did you-?"  
  
"Catherine. she made me realise."  
  
"Realise what?" her head came up suddenly curious. Would he give her something?  
  
"Oh, you know Catherine."  
  
"That didn't answer my question-"  
  
"And you didn't answer mine," he pointed out and they were quiet once more. "We can play this game all night-"  
  
"It's not a game!"  
  
"- but it won't get us anywhere."  
  
Sara held herself before she asked him to clarify 'us' in a suggestive tone. "What do you suggest?"  
  
He shrugged his shoulders. "It's all up to you."  
  
"Why do I get the feeling we have been down this road?"  
  
He looked up at her again, this time his eyes open to her. "May be we have" Surprisingly, he didn't look away. "You know how productive we've been so far?" he glanced at his watch.  
  
She took her queue. "This means work!" She didn't know exactly how long paperwork was going to last and it seemed to stretch on forever, as if time forgot about them. It was so maddeningly quiet in the room that she could hear both of their breaths. She tried to keep hers quiet but that would only create irregularity. Occasionally, she'd shift in her chair to break the silence.  
  
Sara was glad when, five to twelve, Nick came in. "Hey, Sara, how'd you solve that case so quickly?"  
  
"I didn't," she offered no further explanation and Grissom's raised eyebrow at Nick kept him from questioning further.  
  
"I. uh. came to a dead end. No body. We searched the house, garden, garage. There was some blood but not enough to qualify for murder," Nick said and waited.  
  
"Check the front lawn, attic, basement. Remember it could have been buried long ago so you won't be able to tell without equipment."  
  
That seemed to give Nick an idea. "Yeah, I'll be back. later," he added at the risk of sounding like the Terminator. Nick left and took with him the only sound in the room.  
  
Sara felt hesitant to return to the paperwork.  
  
"Problem?" Grissom asked.  
  
"Umm. I need a break"  
  
Again, he glanced at his watch. "It's only been 40 minutes. Okay, I need a break too," he gave in, taking off his glasses and massaging the bridge of his nose briefly.  
  
She stood up with the intention of stretching but instead got drawn to his collection of butterflies. Sara was too aware of his somewhat scrutinising gaze and wondered, not for the first time, if the cold façade was only a mask. She tried to keep her breathing even, as the thick silence enabled him to hear it too. She couldn't concentrate on those butterflies anymore, but instead only heard dull thuds of her heartbeat and wondered if perhaps he could sense something.  
  
"Find something interesting?" his voice was very close to her ear and she had nearly jumped. She tried to laugh in an attempt to dissolve the mad tension, but couldn't get anything out. Finally, she willed herself to turn around and look at him. To her disappointment, he was just walking out the door. "I'm going to get us coffee"  
  
Well, thankyouverymuch. Why would she want that stupid coffee? She had barely touched her cup this morning. Sara could feel her blood boiling and stubbornly refused to admit he was getting to her. Now, THIS is a tease! She searched her mind for one good reason why she shouldn't just walk out the door and leave him to come back to an empty office. That would serve him right. May be he'd learn something then. Sara held herself in the doorway, at the threshold.  
  
She knew he had feelings, no matter how coldly he seemed to acknowledge hers. She knew it would hurt him. Why should she not hurt him, after all those things he'd done to hurt her? She let out a breath and looked down at her shoes. She only looked up when she sensed the smell of coffee and knew she had stayed too long. When she looked up, Sara made no attempt to mask her feelings any longer.  
  
He was looking at her. She couldn't meet his gaze. For some reason unknown to her, her eyes was becoming increasingly hot and she was afraid if she looked at him, the tears would come like a flood. At that moment she remembered how many times she'd fantasised how he'd come to her house, as if forgetting something, how she'd meet him in the street on their day off, how he'd initiate something. anything. None of this ever happened outside of her head. She had been so stupid. And she didn't even want to begin to think how sad she was to waste all these lonely years, waiting for some delusional fantasy to fulfil itself.  
  
"Sara." she heard his voice grow soft and quiet, as if in a dream. He was close to her. They were moving back into the office and the door closed. After a moment of brief hesitation, his hands found themselves on her shoulders. She could feel the heat seeping through her blouse to reach her skin with a shiver. Before she knew what was happening, the delightful feeling spread throughout her body as his arms embraced her in a hug. It was tentative at first, but then holding her tighter, pulling her closer. It took her a moment to recognise uncharted territory. She moved to return the embrace, noting his deep breath when she entwined her arms behind him. Inwardly, she smiled: who was he trying to fool with that cold façade anyway? The smile extended on her lips despite all the confusing emotions, which were just swimming underneath the surface. It had just become very simple.  
  
After long minutes ticked by, he forced himself to let her go and instantly missed her hot breath at his neck, her soft hair at his cheek, her warm form in his arms.  
  
"Better?"  
  
Yes. "A little."  
  
"Sara, why don't you go home? Relax?"  
  
"Why don't you meet me after shift?" she said in the same even tone. His expression remained mildly surprised, and leaning his head to the side, he continued to dissect her offer. She hoped he wouldn't ask why.  
  
"Okay"  
  
If he had noticed her face light up, he refrained from comment.  
  
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Now I was intending to finish it there, but may be I will continue it! It does sound fun! Thank you all for the lovely reviews! I'm always glad to hear what you think! JM. 


	3. The Rain

DISCLAIMER: Don't own anyone – characters are property of creators.

S E P I A 

By Jane Moss

What had he done? Why had he fooled himself into thinking this was just a casual meeting? A few seconds of deliberation were not sufficient for such a commitment. If he backed out, the situation could only deteriorate. He'd pushed her away once when she asked to meet. Was this a second chance? Did his automatic answer encourage to break the professional distance he worked so hard to achieve? He let out a heavy breath and dropped his glasses on the table. Everything revolved around 'why'.

Upon walking into his office just before the end of his shift, Grissom found a note, quickly written. "Grissom, I'm going home early (only by an hour). I still want to meet. Sara" That was simple enough. He thought back to the beginning. She seemed so enthusiastic about coming to Las Vegas, but slowly that light grew dimmer inside her and he inwardly feared that it might soon be extinguished. The attempted resignation, the plant, the request for dinner. It suddenly hit him and he froze where he stood. Sara came here because of him. She had stayed here because of him. How could he not pick up the evidence in plain sight before? What kind of CSI was he anyway?

Back to why. Why did he always hurt her so? That was a question which lingered in his mind longer than all the others. He continued to do something wrong. The clear image of her raw pain just barely concealed still lingered in his mind, from so long ago when he refused her invitation to dinner. She must have been upset. He never had enough time to consider things properly. He could do nothing to change his reply.

Grissom grabbed his light coat and walked out without a word. A thick grey blanket covered the sky in all four directions as far as he could see. The clouds looked dense enough to descend upon him at any moment. Even the usual breeze seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. The tension was driving him crazy. Grissom found it impossible to think of anything but Sara. She was always a little different. Her gaze lingered longer. Sometimes he could have sworn she was looking at him, while he was occupied with something else. His mind, of course, did have a habit of jumping to unnecessary assumptions. 

By the time his car turned onto her street, it was pouring down with rain. He dreaded meeting the heavy drops. The morning was darkening even more. He couldn't balance the urge to run for cover from the cold hard drops and hurrying into a situation he was not ready for. He needed more time. The thought of returning to his car came and went. Grissom settled on walking at a steady pace, even though his clothing became soaked as the rain hit his clothing repeatedly, the cold wetness seeping through to his skin. What would she say once she opened the door? "Um… come in" "Thank you" It could never be so easy.

Suddenly he found himself standing in front of her wooden door. Knock on it. He looked back out into the rain and wondered if it was too late to turn back. The door opened. He must have knocked. They stood and looked at each other, neither turning away. Suddenly Grissom became very aware of standing completely soaked in her doorway. It was always so awkward. 

Suddenly, a thunderclap snapped them out of the trance. Their bodies shook in instinctual surprise and Sara intended a laugh to diffuse the heavy air between them but it died in her throat. She needed an answer from him. Yes or no. That simple. 

"Do you…. want to come in?"

That wouldn't be appropriate. It was her private space. Employer, employee. He was wet. He was cold. He couldn't let himself get any closer than her doorframe. Slight panic flickered in his eyes and she saw his reply before he vocalised it.

"No," he said simply, but she noted he did not manage to feign indifference this time.

"Oh," she didn't attempt to mask her disappointment either. Here she was thinking that may be the hiding would soon be over. He wouldn't meet her eyes now and wouldn't turn around and leave. Why did it have to be this man? It was always so much harder. She looked away.

"Sara," he stared down at his shoes before composing himself and looking up to finally meet her eyes, "I…" She should be patient. She should wait as long as he needed. She knew she should give him a chance. "Whenever I do or say anything to you, I get the distinct feeling I'm doing something wrong… Now, I… I don't know… how to… I don't know what to do about this…" Sara simply nodded. He wasn't implying it was her fault. He was willing to talk. That was a start.

"Grissom, come in," It wasn't a request. If he refused her now it would be only because he didn't want her. She could read his indecision. That didn't stop her from luring him inside. The rain or a warm apartment? How ridiculous was his choice?

He stepped inside and she slid the door closed almost soundlessly behind him, as if to prevent him from rethinking his action. Uneasiness hung in the air as he once again noted he was making her carpet wet. Rainwater dripped from his jacket. Why did it have to rain this day? When he looked around the hallway, the whole place practically shouted her name and he could pick up her unique scent all around him. 

"You're soaked," she pointed out the obvious; "let me get you some towels before you catch your death. Take your jacket off."

He complied. "I don't have a change of clothes with me…" she now recognised his shirt and knew he'd come straight from work. "…may be I should…"

She chuckled at that before he had time to finish his sentence. "You're not gonna escape from here that easy!" They shared a brief smile before the seriousness overtook again. "Your shirt is not too wet. I bet we could get you dried off in no time." Suddenly he thought about how much he would have liked to get out of the wet pants and relax in the comfort of his own home. She wasn't going to let him go though. She'd made that pretty clear.

He stopped her hands as she was taking off his jacket. "Sara, lets go over to my place" 

May be it was her curiosity that lured her out of her comfort zone. "Okay"

The drive to his place was slow ad uneventful. Only a few words exchanged. The rain was now a light drizzle against the windshield. Sara's eyes followed the patterns of the tiny droplets as they got pushed out by the wind. She did not recognise the dark building they stopped next to, and could only assume it to be his residence, since he had never invited her to his home before. She wondered what it would change.

They ran through the light rain up to his door, which surprisingly lifted her mood proportionally. May be it was because for the first time in a long time, she was not alone. They entered his home. 

"Leave the lights off, if you don't mind" Grissom complied with her request and let the grey sky provide the only light source in the rooms, thus retaining the unusual atmosphere. For Sara, being on the other side of the glass, meant feeling warmer than with a 60W lamp. Grissom must have gone to change, she thought; as she sat down on the sofa next to the window and let herself relax her head back. It has been a tiring shift. It was so easy to escape into the rhythmic, drumming of the raindrops. It was almost hypnotic. Somewhere in the back of her mind she noted that the rain was getting louder again and she wished it were completely dark. She missed sleeping in complete darkness. 

Thunderclap roared her awake and her eyes snapped open. For a moment her surroundings seemed alien, but then she remembered. Where was Grissom? How long was she asleep? Sara felt a warm blanket over her as she moved to get up. The curtains were drawn and left most of the room in darkness.

She saw him move slowly from the shadows until he sat softly on the other edge of the sofa. There was concern on his face, but other than that he appeared to be much more relaxed than before.

"Sara… are you alright?" he moved closer. Just a bit. His voice was soft.

"I… think so"

"Did you have a bad dream?" the crease on his forehead did not disappear.

"I don't remember if I did," she paused for a minute to look at him, "How long was I asleep?"

"A few hours. I considered putting you on the bed but I didn't want to wake you."

She shivered before she realised she was cold. With just a moment's hesitation, he put his arm around her and lifted the blanket to her chin. He was so warm. He held her so closely now. It was tempting to drift off in his arms. She forced herself to stay awake.

"We still have to talk," her voice didn't sound very strong.

"Shh…" his voice was quiet and close to her ear, "we don't have to do anything right now" She relaxed unwillingly. Where was this side of Gil Grissom before? She felt so very tired. She tried to hold back a yawn but it overpowered her. Then there was the distant sensation of being lifted up and carried away.

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So what do you think? Please review! Sorry it took me so long to write the next chapter - a minor writers block, you see! Thanks again for all the kind reviews. JM


	4. Awakening

DISCLAIMER: Don't own anyone – characters are property of creators.

S E P I A 

By Jane Moss

Her consciousness returned to her very gradually, as vision is returned in the clearing fog. She was aware of distant jazz playing somewhere far away and remembered, not for the very first time, that even though Las Vegas was in the middle of the desert, it was certainly urban.

She turned around and yawned, suddenly freezing her movements, as she realised something was off. It wasn't her bed. Her eyes opened to the half darkness of an unfamiliar room. She was lying in a large double bed. Suddenly the events of the morning came rushing back and it became clear that this was indeed Grissom's bedroom. Sara couldn't make up her mind, whether to feel intrusive or comfortable. She looked around, trying to memorise every section of his private space. Then she let her head fall back and relax back onto the pillow once more. Just a few more minutes. He had no knowledge of her awakening.

The curtains were partially open to reveal distant neon lights of casinos, blinking in the distance. They were too far away to be an intrusion. The sky was black as ever, but the lights kept the room in a pleasant semi-darkness, where everything could be seen. She listened. The rain had stopped and all she could hear was the faint buzz of the music and cars. She must have slept the whole day. Sara couldn't even remember the last time she slept so well and closed her eyes as she inhaled the scent from the pillow next to her. It was so full of Grissom. He was all around her. Somehow she felt very privileged that he would share such an intimate space with her. She knew she shouldn't be too optimistic, but she couldn't banish the happiness which comfortably settled itself at her chest. The night was so full of… possibilities.

After a moment of listening the end of the jazz song, blurred by the distance, she pulled the covers to her face again. God, she loved that scent. She smelled something else now. Something delicious. She made a move out of bed and realised, with some disappointment, that she was still fully clothed. She looked back at his bed and made an attempt to redo the covers. Where did he sleep?

She followed the smell. What was it? She passed the bathroom and made a little detour before she reached the kitchen. His back was to her. She waited for him to turn before speaking. He did have skill with those pans. Tools are companions to a good chef.

"Hey," she said softly, as their eyes met.

"Good evening," he replied pausing his movements, "how are you feeling?" He made her a cup of hot tea.

"Good… great," she couldn't help letting out a small smile. He looked pleased for a moment before assuming another more serious look.

"Sara, when was the last time you had a good night's sleep?"

"Not in a while," she answered honestly, looking down at her tea. There was no reason to hide now. "But I feel much better now. I just don't know why I needed your bed to get a good night's sleep…" she blurted out, regretting it as a soft blush graced her cheeks. He smiled, genuinely this time, only throwing her a quick glance. She loved seeing him smile.

"I had a feeling you weren't sleeping well," his tone was even, as he placed a plate of freshly made omelette on the counter in front of her.

"Thank you. It's hard to sleep when the sun's shinning through your curtains"

"The pain of working at graveshift," he smiled very lightly, then added, in a deductive tone: "you need some good blinds." When he thought of something to do he always said it very simply.

"Oh, they're fine," her tone was becoming mellow as she sipped her tea and noticed the sweet taste of honey in it. "Grissom, thank you for letting me stay," she managed a small laugh, "It must have been rude of me to fall asleep on you like that" He joined her with a small chuckle.

"I'm glad you slept well." They looked at each other for a moment. It was strange to meet with Grissom in such a personal setting. It was a different habitat. He seemed more relaxed. It was easier to just look at him here. He turned back to the kitchen.

"I'm afraid you'll have to eat that omelette soon. We're due at work in half an hour"

Work? That's it? They had so much more to do. They haven't even talked properly. Why did she fall asleep like an idiot? She didn't know whether he noted her disappointment, as his expression remained measured and even, just like she always remembered him. He was still afraid to cross that professional line.

"Don't be mad at your boss for not giving you a day off. Catherine's away and Nick called in sick." One side of her mouth made an attempt to smile, but it must have turned out more of a frown. Her appetite was dissipating. He rested his elbows on the counter in front of her. "Sara," he touched her forearms and continued when she slowly looked up, "You do know this isn't over…"

It took her a moment to reply. "Uh, sure. Of course I do, I mean I did know that." He smiled and she couldn't resist joining in. Her emotions were like a carousel. It was surprising how he managed to play them so easily. They were like a couple of teenagers and he was such a tease.

In 15 minutes they were in his car, ready to go. Her clothes were a little creased, which she was sure would get at least Greg's attention, but other than that, another day at work never seemed more unusual or so unanticipated for that matter. They said little during the short drive. Trust Grissom to live close to work.

She looked over. He appeared like his normal self - the same even demeanour. Uneventful. There were more emotions swimming in him than anyone could see, looking at his calm exterior. People let theirs out. He kept it in. It was not easy being Grissom and the years have taken their toll on him. He suddenly remembered the loneliness he felt most of his adult life, which was constantly eating him inside out. It was nothing, after all, if one had not found a partner. Some people were not made for such intimacy. He turned a corner, nearing their destination. 

He knew he was stalling on lost time. Personal decisions were not his strong points. He could make impersonal work-related decisions into logical and deductive patterns, but anything that involved Sara, a creature so different from himself, gave him nothing but confusion. May be he enjoyed the destruction of his balance. Who could say?

As he pulled into the parking lot, he saw none other than Catherine Willows talking to a lab worker. He could have cursed himself at the bad timing. Why, of all people, Catherine? She was so inquisitive. Not that it hurt him much in the past. Sara locked eyes with him for a moment and she could have sworn he looked at her just slightly different. She was in his car. That in itself was proof enough he had not dreamt about their encounter.

They got out. "Hey Grissom. Sara… you two travel together?" Catherine asked as she joined them on the lift to the second floor.

"It saves fuel"

Catherine eyed Grissom suspiciously and then Sara, who tried her best to bite back a grin.

"Oh," she refrained from comment, confusion still plain on her face. After all, what could she say to a reason like that, even though it was so obviously deviating from the main focus?

"I thought you were off today," Grissom stated.

"I decided on a change of plans"

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Yes, I know! I keep teasing you guys, but I want this to go a bit slow… I will get bored with it soon enough and it will speed up a bit! Thanks again for all the kind reviews. Oh and by the way, Burked, I'm still waiting for that cookie! LOL!  JM


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